


Lost in Florence

by panthershabit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Coffee Shops, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Good Blaise Zabini, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Summer Romance, The AU where Blaise gets a Summer job & Harry gets lost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panthershabit/pseuds/panthershabit
Summary: The Slytherin boy doesn't seem impressed to see Harry and rolls his eyes. He initially feels a flush of shock bolt through his body but replaces it with irritation. "Of course, it's not bad enough I have to get a job while everyone else enjoys their summer. I end up seeing not just anybody from Hogwarts, but you."The pale boy purses his lips awkwardly and scratches the nape of his neck before opening his mouth. He's unsure of what to say and remains silent while attempting to gather a sentence to give to the seemingly-offended boy."There's no point being silent, Potter. It's not as if you do the same at school.""Look, I'm sorry if me being here irks you but I really need a cup of something so I can try and forget that my best friend got murdered by the man who killed my parents."





	Lost in Florence

At first, Blaise believes his mother to be joking when she introduces the idea of a summer job to her son. After all, after all this hard work, Blaise feels as if he is deserving of a break away from the stress of revising as well as the fact that he already has plans for how he wishes to spend his time in Italy - it includes many different activities but working is certainly not one of them. Naturally, Blaise scowls once Mrs. Zabini makes it clear that there is no quip to her sentence and crosses his arms in protest.

It only takes a handful of seconds for his mother to catch on to her son's reactions and when she turns her head back to face the glass cups she's washing she smiles to herself. "Don't give me that look, Blaise. I'm simply doing this as a favor for you." Blaise retreats the sour expression but still manages to keep the disdain visibly clear to whoever walks in the room.

The tall boy scoffs and breaks his arms away from the folded position to place his hands on the table. One thing that Mrs. Zabini genuinely appreciates about her son - among the many other things a mother loves about their child - is that Blaise never hides how he feels even if he disagrees with something but always respects what his mother tells him or asks of him.

"Last time I checked, you can't do much with Italian Lira in Hogsmeade. So, I'm working for free."

Ice clinks faintly in Blaise's glass as he pushes the rim of the glass onto his lips and enjoys the icy touch traveling down his throat, especially given the harsh heat that shows no mercy to Blaise even during the night. It may not lighten his spirits about the proposal of working during the summer but it is successful in making him feel better and less dehydrated.

"Nonsense. You don't live over there, you know. Well, not forever anyway. And if you do well, you may get to keep it once you finish your last year at Hogwarts."

Blaise nods his head silently to show acknowledgment rather than agreement and leans his chin against his knuckles as his mother returns to sitting at the breakfast table in their kitchen. It's a family tradition of theirs to talk or at least be together during breakfast and dinner, neither of them has any control over the middle of the day territory. But this is good enough.

"Perhaps you can get one of those PlayStation things Gianna bought her son," Mrs. Zabini suggests and Blaise fails to disguise his amusement even if he feels it's being rude. He understands his mother is trying to help but to mention video-games makes Blaise smile out of humor because he sees no need in them. He much prefers the comfort of a book or the peaceful background noise of Italy during the day. "Oh, I forgot, that's not _'cool enough'_ for you, is it?"

The air quotes that Mrs. Zabini adds to her sentence only further brings out a laugh from both of them and Blaise indulges in the last of his chilled water before putting the glass to the side and looking at his mother. Her smile fades but not to the extent where it is gone, just faint. "I know it's all so last minute but I only got a response yesterday evening. It'll be good for you to make some non-magic friends and interact."

The dark-skinned teenager feels a brief hit of frustration and drops his head so his eyes face the white sheet embroidered with golden patterns that cover the breakfast table. He knows what he's about to say is wrong but cannot hide it.

"Who to say I wish to associate myself with Muggles?"

Blaise feels the disappointment in Mrs. Zabini's heart and cannot face his mother even if he is strong about his beliefs. 

"Don't. We are not having this conversation again."

"But Mother, I respect your choices and beliefs, why can you not do the same for me? Especially when it comes to _them_."

Without warning, Mrs. Zabini stands up and takes Blaise's glass to wash it for him. Blaise usually does this himself and knows that this is an indication that she's upset about the conversation they are having.

"This is why I want you to get a job and forget about Hogwarts for your summer. You're thinking too much like those Malfoys, and I don't want to see you turn into the boy they've turned him into."

Immediately, Blaise's nostrils flare and he feels insulted. Blaise is nothing like Draco Malfoy and for his mother to even indicate that he is on the path of the near-platinum blonde's direction is direly insulting to him. It takes a lot for him not to open his mouth and object to the point his mother is making but Blaise simply opts to huff and shake his head.

Blaise knows that if anybody else had made the accusation his mother does, they would have seen another side of him. But Blaise isn't about to ask his mother who she thinks she is.

"_Hai torto_," Blaise murmurs in Italian, his accent slightly slipping out. _She is wrong, _he reassures in his mind.

"I hope so, my son. I sincerely do."

It's at this point that silence falls between them and Blaise stands up to go to his new workplace. There's no point in defying his mother, even if he's not in the best of moods with her right now. Being petty and throwing temper tantrums is something that has been beneath Blaise almost directly after his birth. The short-haired boy approaches his mother and kisses her cheek gently. "I'll see you tonight, Mother. Take care."

"And you too, Blaise," she says, assuring him that there is - _and never will be_ \- any bad blood between them. As he makes his way out of the villa originally owned by Mrs. Zabini's second father, Blaise turns as well as raises his head to look at the beautifully light-blue pool of color above him, decorated with patchy shapes of grayish-silver. Despite being told he's acting like Draco Malfoy, the weather is too good to mope around about it.

\---

Harry's lost. Of course, his _perfect_ plan to go abroad and forget about Cedric Diggory goes awry because it is at risk of being something _good_to happen to Harry. The pale boy sighs at how hot it is _wherever_ he is and ambles through the heavy crowds to seek something that can deliver a clue as to what his current location is. For a few minutes, Harry finds absolutely nothing and drags his palm across his branded forehead to wipe away the sweat garnered from his walk.

The boy wants to ask someone about his location, but due to the recent events, he is too skeptical of who to be trustful around. He trusts Mad-Eye Moody and it turns out to be Barty Crouch Jr. He trusts Albus Dumbledore, yet every year prior to this the elder man delivers him to the Dursleys to be abused like wolves to an injured rabbit in the wild. Most heartbreakingly, he trusts Cedric to become his new friend and ally during the Triwizard Tournament. And now he's someone Harry mourns every day.

It's too much for Harry and he cannot open his mouth to ask for help, so instead, he uses his initiative and opens his ears to eavesdrop on the conversations around him. Concurrently, Harry additionally scouts around for any wording on the sides of the buildings he sees and it doesn't take long for him to put two and two together once he hears the accent of someone not too far from him as well as what seems to be a beautiful small-ish coffee shop. He's in _Italy_.

The cladding of the coffee shop is aged but not ancient, in fact, it looks historically appealing as the stone exterior blends well with the cream entrance and the stunningly clean glass panel offers a small glimpse of the interior of the place. Harry decides that it's a good idea to sit down and get something to bite or drink while he figures out what exactly his next move is.

_Shit_, he thinks, pushing his hand into his pockets and remembering that he only possesses English currency and a handful of Leprechaun gold that will vanish in a few hours. Besides, it's not exactly as if Harry thinks anyone will take the gold anyway. But if he tries, it's not exactly as if he's robbing Gringotts, he's simply using it to buy cheap food or a coffee. _No, he mustn't_.

Harry lingers outside of the coffee shop for a while and chooses to turn back, picking the more honorable route. However, the pale boy only gets three steps in before he sees something shiny on the floor. He doesn't believe it when he crouches to pick the now-multiple sources of shine up but smiles in shock as he sees coins in the palm of his hand. _Finally, something's going right._

The teen prays that it's worth something in the coffee shop and turns back to his original direction with his newly accumulated money. As he walks through the entrance, he smells the enticing scent of lime-scented candles which seem questionable given the heat of the coffee shop but the windows and doors are all open, as well as multiple fans blowing in the distance.

When Harry approaches the barista, he's unsure of how to ask for a coffee so he clears his throat while the tall man works on cleaning the side of one of the machines and looks at the back of his head.

"Um... excuse me, I'm kind of lost and I'm looking to get something to eat, maybe a tea or a coffee?"

The way the back of the man's head shoots up, Harry believes that they recognize his voice, but he's all the way in Italy with no notice. It's surely unlikely. Harry looks outside the window panel to ensure he's not being followed but when the man turns around and approaches him, Harry suddenly realizes that it's not a man. It's a tall boy, the same one he sees hanging around with Draco and his practically-lackeys of Crabbe and Goyle. It's Blaise Zabini.

The Slytherin boy doesn't seem impressed to see Harry and rolls his eyes. He initially feels a flush of shock bolt through his body but replaces it with irritation. "Of course, it's not bad enough I have to get a job while everyone else enjoys their summer. I end up seeing not just anybody from Hogwarts, but _you_."

The pale boy purses his lips awkwardly and scratches the nape of his neck before opening his mouth. He's unsure of what to say and remains silent while attempting to gather a sentence to give to the seemingly-offended boy.

"There's no point being silent, Potter. It's not as if you do the same at school."

Harry sighs and looks at Blaise with an expression that proves to be done with dealing with Slytherins and their _'We're Merlin's Gift'_ ideology.

"Look, I'm sorry if me being here irks you but I really need a cup of something so I can try and forget that my best friend got murdered by the man who killed my parents."

Blaise feels an impossible lump to swallow in his throat and tries clearing it once he realizes that the boy is referring to Cedric Diggory. Blaise knows he didn't care for Cedric too much when he was alive but to die that young at the hands of Voldemort isn't something easy to forget. Especially when the screams of multiple people - the boy's father, onlookers and Harry himself boom through the room Blaise was in back in June. He understands how Harry must be feeling. "My bad, Potter. What will it be then?"

The messy-haired boy is not sure how to respond to that. 

"I... uh, I'm not sure how much this will get me," he murmurs sheepishly. Passing the coins to Blaise, the edges of his fingers make a brief touch against the taller boy's palm and Harry brings his hand back in after. Never in a million years does he see this happening.

Blaise runs his fingers over the Italian Lira and shrugs his shoulder.

"I mean, you can probably get a glass of water with this," he suggests and once he reads Harry's disappointed expression of fallen eyes facing the floor, he smugly smirks to himself. "Hey, I'm joking."

Harry feels the relief rush over him and pushes out a small chuckle through heavy breaths while Blaise remains stood in front of him. 

"How about a cup of tea and a sandwich? You'd think Hogwarts would have fed you enough," Blaise says and Harry at first believes for it to be with cruel or teasing intentions. But Blaise isn't scowling or smirking anymore which makes Harry consider the fact that maybe the dark-skinned boy genuinely cares about how little he eats. Blaise isn't exactly like the other Slytherin students that harass Harry, in fact, he's barely even around them when they give the boy grief. It's usually on the train or during meals that Harry sees Blaise with Draco, and occasionally in their Divination and History of Magic classes. In the other classes they share, Blaise prefers to remain alone. 

The Gryffindor student nods and points over to an empty table by the side of the coffee shop, next to the glass panel Harry sees when first approaching it.

"Take a seat over there, I'll bring it over to you. You look like you've been walking for _days_."

There it is again. Is Blaise _actually_ taking Harry's wellbeing into consideration? Harry thinks he's severely misunderstanding Blaise's cruel humor and just nods. "Thanks." Making his way to the uninhabited table, his head turns only once to look over to Blaise, whose sights are still on the skinny boy.

\---

Gently putting the cup of tea to the side of the sandwich he makes before, Blaise takes a swift glance over to the boy who appears to be distracted and tries to guess what is on his mind. Then, he attempts to work out what the hell is going on in his head to be caring so much. Blaise saunters over to Harry and places both the cup of tea and the cut-in-half sandwich in front of Harry before sitting in front of him, which confuses Harry.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you? I'm on my break and literally have nobody else to talk to."

The way he says it isn't intended to be rude but perhaps it's his near-bland tone and sharp cheekbones that add to the effect. Even Mrs. Zabini mentions in the past of how her son struggles to show emotion around anybody who isn't her. Blaise blames it on simply being different to his peers in the sense that he's not cruel or devious, yet he isn't over-affectionate or shows care for anything.

"Sure," Harry answers. He observes as Blaise gracefully lowers into the seat across from him and braids his fingers together. Moving his eyes onto the plated sandwich, he cannot help but think about how delicious it looks. He peeks into the exposed opening of the sandwich and spots the shiny red slices of tomato above the yellow of cheese and green of lettuce. The bread isn't like the scraps he gets at the Dursleys - and not just because they're not scraps - instead, it's rustic and golden-brownish on the crust as well as the shape is different. But all of these are good things. "Did you make this yourself?"

Blaise takes pride in looking at the food he prepares for Harry, even if for him it is really a simple activity. It's nowhere near a task. "Well if I didn't, I wouldn't be doing my job correctly, would I, Potter?"

Again, Harry _nods_. Blaise easily recognizes body language and chews on his tongue before opening his mouth.

"I apologize if my jokes are not clear," he says sincerely. "It's difficult for people to tell if I am joking or being a prick."

Harry believes that easily. There's a chance it's not Blaise's fault, and that he truly has no control over his mannerisms, but it's more so the _Potter_ part that makes it difficult for Harry to distinguish whether or not Blaise's words are out of jest.

"Maybe if you didn't say _Potter_ the way every other Slytherin does, it would be easier," Harry smiles. It's both out of amusement and to let Blaise know he's not offended.

Blaise sharpens his jawline - which seems impossible to do - with the clenching of his jaw and then he smiles back at Harry.

"I've been hearing that a lot recently. That I'm acting like Draco Malfoy, becoming someone like him."

"Nobody's like him. Not even his reflection is as bad a person as he is," Harry laughs and he grabs one half of the sandwich to take an ambitious bite into it. The mix of flavors that enters his mouth instantly satisfies his taste buds and Blaise appreciates what he tells him, also how much he seems to be enjoying the food. "This is really good."

As Harry continues to eat the sandwich, Blaise narrows his eyes with curiosity and watches Harry. 

"So, how exactly did you end up in Florence? It's not exactly the type of place you go to by _accident_," Blaise inquires and Harry strongly agrees with that. He pulls out of a crushed aluminum can from his blue jacket's pocket and puts it into the table. Blaise understands straight away and smiles with impression. "A _Portkey_. Now how did you get one of those?"

Harry knows he cannot tell the truth for two reasons - the first being that Blaise associates himself with Draco so others may hear about this and two, it's not his Portkey. It's Hagrid's. The friendly giant understands how heartbroken Harry is after the Triwizard Tournament so he secretly gives Harry the Portkey so he can stay somewhere else other than with those awful Dursleys. He knows he shouldn't, but the kid's been through enough already. But he believes Harry would go somewhere else in _London_, not _Italy_.

"I genuinely thought it was litter and when I tried to throw it away, it took me here."

After all the stories Blaise hears about this boy when he's younger and even back to a few weeks prior, the lean boy does not believe it was a mere accident that he finds the Portkey. But he's not going to challenge the story now.

"Do you not have somewhere to go, P-..." Blaise starts, pausing almost instantly. "_Harry_. Do you not have anywhere to go?"

Now it's Harry's turn to freeze, a huge mouthful of bread, tomato, and all the other flavors paused in his mouth so his cheeks bulge out like a hamster's. He begins to chew again and once he swallows, wipes his mouth. 

"Not really, no."

Blaise leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. The boy appears to be mulling over on something but Harry cannot guess what it is.

"Well, you can't roam around Florence without a clue of where to go. Why don't you stay at ours until you find somewhere to go?"

Both of them are shocked at Blaise's proposal but Harry then believes that Blaise is making a joke. Watching how Blaise's face fails to change soon debunks that.

"Wait, you're being _serious_?"

"Believe me, if Harry Potter is found dead in my city, they'll blame either me or my mother without even thinking about it. It's better if you just stay safe."

Harry thinks it over and knows that he hasn't got much of a choice. He's practically homeless and if what Blaise says is true, he cannot put someone else's family at risk.

"I guess if it's okay with you, then sure, thanks."

Harry's voice is soft and full of appreciation, something Blaise notices instantly. Blaise feels something strange at the sight and sound of this like he's suddenly some sort of good samaritan. But he quickly tries to convince himself it's purely out of selfish reasons.

\---

"Mother, this is Harry Potter. I'm sure he needs no more of an introduction, but he's homeless, so I offered him residence with us until he figures out where to go next."

Mrs. Zabini puts the wooden spoon against the pan and turns to face both her son and the pale, nervous boy next to him. Smiling, she opens her arms for a hug and rushes into it before Harry can even react.

"So, you're the famous Harry Potter Blaise talks about?"

Suddenly, Blaise's head snaps up and his eyes open and close in a manner to say _'Mother...'_ without doing so. Blaise praises the fact that it's difficult to determine if heat is flushing through his cheeks and that Harry's back is still to him. 

"Everyone talks about him," Blaise says coldly. "That's the whole point of one being _'famous'_, Mother."

She laughs and hugs Blaise too, happy that he's not annoyed about her earlier remarks and also proud of how he goes out of his way to help a Gryffindor. When Blaise is younger, he excitedly recaps everything to do with Harry through letters and when he's home in speech as he's like every other child who hears of a tale that turns out to be true. 

When he grows older, he stops talking about Harry so much after failed attempts at striking a conversation due to the circumstances of those damn Weasley and Granger friends as well as the fact Slytherins do not exactly have the best reputation.

Mrs. Zabini resumes her cooking as the boys sit at the dinner table in the other room and once the food is prepared they all look ready to eat. He's only been in Blaise's presence for less than a day and already he's eaten more times in this day than he does at the Durselys. The meal looks amazing and mouth-watering but Harry ensures he doesn't actually start watering from the mouth.

Three juicy, grilled peaches with grill marks running across bright orange rest next to the middle attraction of creamy burrata and around all of that is salty serrano ham that with the green streaks of salad makes the entire dish look flawless.

"Mrs. Zabini... this looks _amazing_!" Harry exclaims while managing not to shout.

"Thank you, dear."

Harry smiles and sticks his fork into the food, eagerly eating away as Blaise spectates and Mrs. Zabini appreciates how much Harry enjoys the food.

"I think this might be the most Harry's eaten in his life," Blaise smiles and Mrs. Zabini tilts her head but cannot disagree with the idea of his joke. The boy _is_ skinny despite the fact Hogwarts has no shortage of food.

"I'm sure Harry just forgets sometimes. You remember when you were a small boy and I would take you to the gardens or parks to see the plants, you wouldn't even drink anything no matter how much you sweated because you wanted to see everything," Mrs. Zabini chuckles, reminiscing on Blaise's early signs of excitement which eventually fade over time.

"To be honest, my uncle and aunt forgot to feed me. Well, they acted as if they did, sometimes it just seemed they couldn't be bothered."

The way he says it so casually frightens both Blaise and Mrs. Zabini, and they both look over to each other while Harry still eats.

"You weren't fed? Did they treat you badly?"

Harry pauses and resumes eating after a few seconds. "Apart from putting me in a cupboard, putting bars across my windows and making me the household elf, not really."

He truly has no idea why all of this is coming out but it's likely because Mrs. Zabini reminds Harry of Mrs. Weasley. 

"_Merlin's beard_..." Blaise mutters under his breath and Mrs. Zabini holds a shocked expression.

"You poor boy... well, I promise that'll never happen while you're here."

Blaise struggles to eat after hearing that but does so and calculates a theory in his mind that brings anger to him.

"That's why you were using the Portkey. You were getting away from _them_."

It's partially correct, just not why Harry's in Florence.

"You can't go back to them if that's how they're treating you."

Mrs. Zabini takes Blaise's hand to calm him down but it's much too late.

"And that long-bearded _prat_ is sending you back to them, isn't he?"

"Blaise, don't speak of Albus like that!" Mrs. Zabini insists and Blaise tries to get back to controlled breaths.

"How many students have been petrified or converted or even hurt under his watch? But fine, I'll _respect_ him," Blaise scowls. Harry feels awful for making everyone upset and keeps his head down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you all."

Blaise clears his throat and continues to eat despite his outburst. "Don't be. I apologize for making a scene. I just c..."

When Blaise stops, Harry thinks he's about to say 'I care about you'. But he never finishes the sentence and leaves Harry hanging obliviously. Once they all finish eating, Mrs. Zabini takes the plates and Blaise tries to stop her. 

"It's alright, you need to show Harry your room. You can do them tomorrow."

Blaise nods and kisses his mother on the cheek, tilting his head so she can do the same. "_Buono Notte._"

"_Buono Notte_. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Zabini. Thank you for the food."

Blaise leads Harry up the wooden-brown stairs of the villa and Harry observes the design and aesthetics of the villa. "Wow, it's beautiful."

"Draco doesn't believe me when I say I live in a villa," Blaise mentions with a smug grin. "But I don't care. It's me who lives here, not him."

As they enter Blaise's spacious room, Harry sees only one bed that can fit four people but nonetheless, is _one_ bed. Looking around, there is a lot to be stunned by and the entire room looks like it belongs to a king.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Harry says. It blurts out so easily and he feels awkward for saying it immediately. 

"Nonsense. Just share the bed with me, I'll sleep on this end and you sleep on that end," Blaise suggests, pointing to one side of the bed and then the other. 

Harry stares at him blankly and questions if he is being serious. Again, the lack of a smirk or grin proves that he is not.

"And you don't have any problem with sharing a bed with me? You know... _me_?"

Blaise turns the light off but it's not late enough at night that he cannot see Harry, especially with his icy cold white skin, and begins to remove his shirt which prompts Harry to turn around immediately.

"Believe it or not, Harry, not every Slytherin hates you. We're not all like Draco Malfoy and I've tried to talk to you before. You just pay no mind because a Slytherin is a Slytherin, right? It'll probably be like that when we go back to school, anyway,"

Harry swallows a hard lump of guilt and turns around to see Blaise now only in a pair of black shorts and he has something in his hand for Harry. He throws it to the boy and Harry catches it, seeing it's a pair of shorts similar but in a charcoal-gray color instead.

"I don't care how pale you are, if you sleep in jeans and a jacket in this heat, you will literally die."

Harry goes to the end of the room and changes out of his clothes, feeling as if Blaise is watching him and turns back to see Blaise is fixing the untidy pile of books on his bedside table. Harry still feels awkwardness amongst them after Blaise's comments about Slytherin and trying to talk to him so he remains silent as he gets on the bed.

"I sleep over the covers, so you can sleep under them if you wish."

It's the better choice out of the two, considering how both of them are in only shorts.

"Sure."

Harry buries himself under the covers and moves his head to the side, closing his eyes.

"Goodnight, Harry," Blaise murmurs. He still sounds irritated after explaining everything to Harry concerning Slytherin but he offers the gesture nonetheless.

"Goodnight, Blaise."

It doesn't go ignored how Blaise starts the day off by referring to Harry as _'Potter'_ and now calls him by his first name. The entire circumstances are peculiar but Blaise learns a lot more about Harry than he believes to know and Harry does the same with Blaise. Even if Harry unintentionally ignores Blaise in the past, now he can work on making it up to the Slytherin boy.

It's hot in Italy, much hotter than England, but it's also much safer - and much more comfortable.


End file.
